


The Right One

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom John, Dream Sex, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Sherlock, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1310542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has a sex dream about one man, when really he wants another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right One

_"Come along, John."_ The memory of a sinister voice, leading him through the locker room of a pool. Only this time the man was standing in front of him, looking worse for wear as he crooked his fingers at him. John moved forward, part of him knowing this was a dream, but in too deep to pull away.

Moriarty was only slightly taller, sinister eyes meeting his and igniting something in his guts. "Such a good boy, Johnny." His hand reached up and traced along his jaw, making him shiver and moan. When he reached his chin he dragged two fingers up for him to suck.

John sucked eagerly, going to his knees. He realized he was already naked and spread his legs. "So eager," purred Moriarty, running a hand through his hair. "Do you spread your legs for him?"

Shaking his head, John felt the question slice through his heart. Sherlock had no interest in those sort of things. He look up at him and knew that Moriarty would fuck him and then murder him. Oddly that seemed okay.

"Such a waste, Johnny boy." Moriarty withdrew his fingers and stepped behind him. John went to hands and knees, panting with need as Moriarty's fingers breeched him. It was pain and pleasure, but if he couldn't have Sherlock then he supposed this would do. The man was rough, of course, and a whimper escaped his lips.

"I'm going to fuck you," he said in that sing-song voice. Part of John's mind was trying to wake up, knew this was the wrong man to be dreaming about, but his cock was full and leaking as he felt Moriarty press against him.

As Moriarty started to take him, he suddenly heard Sherlock's voice and raised his head. "He doesn't want you," said Moriarty behind him, but it was already too late, John was climbing to the surface, waking with a gasp and realizing two things at once: Sherlock was leaning over him and he had a raging hard-on.

Not trusting himself to speak, John sat up and gathered his blanket over his lap. "You were dreaming," said Sherlock. "But not your regular nightmares." He sat on the edge of the bed and studied John's face.

John stared at his mouth in the dim light of his room. Sherlock was expecting him to say something. "It's..." He wet his lips and dragged his eyes away. "It's not important."

Sherlock watched him, then reached down and tugged the blanket away. John blushed. "I'm not gay," he muttered, looking away.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Sherlock huffed a breath and started to get up. John grabbed his wrist, and before he could change his mind, pulled him back down and kissed him hard. This was the right psychopath. Sociopath. Whatever.

Sherlock groaned into the kiss, opening his mouth to John. With a small heave, John flipped them so Sherlock was on his back on the bed. He pushed down his pyjama bottoms, finding him already hard. "You like getting pushed around, don't you?"

"What do you observe?" Asked Sherlock, pale eyes, gone dark.

John leaned down to nip at his throat, getting lube out of the drawer and quickly fingering himself open. Sherlock's hand wrapped around his cock, thumb rubbing along the slit. John growled.

"I desire you," whispered Sherlock.

John moved to straddle his hips. Sherlock bit his lip and rested his hands on his hips. "I can't tell you what I was dreaming about," said John. "But you're the one I want." He guided Sherlock inside.

Sherlock gave him a look, but it was quickly gone as John moved down on his cock. The dream was banished as John was filled, planting one hand on Sherlock's chest, riding him hard. The other hand wrapped around his erection. He moaned loudly with pleasure as Sherlock steadied his hips.

"John." Sherlock moaned his name, curls sticking to his forehead. A few more strokes and John was coming hard across his chest, clamping down on Sherlock. He cried out and followed him over and John groaned at the warmth.

He collapsed forward, panting on Sherlock's chest. Sherlock ran his hand through his hair and kissed his head. John sighed contentedly, not minding the mess underneath him as he drifted towards better dreams. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
